Let the Dead Bury the Dead
by OurLadyofBonbons
Summary: For nearly 60 years Adele Stackhouse has kept a secret that could rock the supernatural world. What would Sookie be willing to do to protect it? AU with shades of SVM canon thrown in for good measure. T for now, perhaps M later.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: If you've made it this far, then you were able to tolerate my poorly written description and clicked on my story anyway. Yay for both of us, right? I've been a rabid reader of FF for years and often it's the "hook" of the description that has grabbed me and introduced me to all the wonderfully gifted and talented authors inside. Hopefully, in spite of my woefully limited description, you'll stick with me. I've been a casual writer for many years and this story has been nagging at my brain for months. I hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome. Your thoughts will help me decide whether to continue.**

**Additional small disclaimer: totally un-beta'd. All mistakes belong to OurLadyofBonbons. Unfortunately, the characters therein do not. They belong to Charlaine Harris_ Our Lady of Viking Glory (although she egregiously misuses him from time to time)**

Chapter 1

Did I know you?

They found the gun right where Gran said it would be.

The old Benelli was thrown haphazardly from the small farmhouse porch where it had been fired and landed in the midst of Adele Stackhouse's prized azealas. The farmhouse had been in our family for generations; its once sunny painted sides faded to the pale yellows of early morning, its whitewashed shutters and trim remained as bright and pristine as the day they were originally hung. A bucket of whitewash paint was cheap enough for this generation of Stackhouse's to incur. Gran had always taken such pride in her home and the welcome open door it offered to anyone looking to spend a few hours in quiet company or to simply gossip like old hens around the kitchen table. I remembered when we had last painted, Jason and I. It was nearing Gran's birthday and even though she always insisted that we not make a fuss, it was easy to see the pride and joy in her eyes as she showcased our meager offers to those few guests we received. I had taken her to one of her favorite lunch spots in Monroe for the day with a quick stop at the public library to stall for time so Jason and Hoyt Fortenberry could finish the work. But, like all the other "surprises" we had planned for Gran, she somehow always knew.

"Let's not tarry too long at lunch dear, I want to hurry home this afternoon.", her voice was full of classic Adele Stackhouse mischief. There was a smile behind every word. Once again, there would be no surprising her.

"Gran, what's your big hurry? It's a beautiful day, what could be better than spending it together? Out enjoying a big lunch and finding new stories to read?" I smiled my brightest smile at her hoping against hope that she bought it. I had always been an avid reader, another of the many gifts from Gran. She told me that there was knowledge in books and that in the pages of fiction were always a little bit of truth.

"People write about what they know", she would say, "even the fantastical, even the most crazy, silly thing, there's a person in there trying to tell their own story, Sookie". Gran would mostly pick books about far away imaginary lands; books about dragons and elfs or mysterious rings and creatures out to protect them. I found myself drawn to Sweet Valley High. Those twins always had the best stories. Living high school through them was always so much easier than as "Crazy Sookie". Thanks to my gift, I knew I would never have normal worries, so theirs was a nice skin to slip into. Jessica and Elizabeth never had to "hear" what boys thought about them, or that teachers thought they might be mentally retarded, or that their brother could really do something with his life if he didn't have her tying him down.

After collecting our books we headed home to Hummingbird Lane where I'd hoped that Jason and Hoyt had finished their not so secret, secret surprise for Gran's birthday. As we made our way up the bumpy gravel driveway, I could see both boys sitting on the porch. Shirtless and sweating in the summer sun, their hair damp and messy, sticking to their foreheads. Just in time, I thought. Gran's smile widened and brightened rivaling the light of the freshly painted shutters and wood porch. She was bounding out of the car towards them before I had the car stopped.

"OH, my boys, my sweet, sweet boys", she said while pulling them both into a hug, "What fine young men to do this for me, oh I love you both so, so much", she said releasing them both with kisses to their sweaty cheeks.

That was Gran.

The woman that gave Jason and I a home, a safe haven after our parents were killed. The woman who sang us to sleep at night when we missed them ignoring her own tears for her lost son. The woman who taught us to be polite and strong and brave, who fed us, clothed us and loved us as fiercely as a mama bear loves her cubs. She had done all this with never an expectation of getting anything in return. Being selfish was never even on the radar for a woman like her. So these small tokens from us, genuinely blessed her. That night she sat on her stool in the kitchen on the phone telling everyone about the great birthday surpise she had recieved. Jason stood off to the side finishing off one of Gran's homemade buttermilk biscuits, listening intently with his own smile hiding just below the surface of his handsome face. You would've thought he'd slain a dragon from one of Gran's fantasy books the way she went on. Our gifts, efforts and deeds were worth a kings ransom in her eyes. He winked at me and I laughed and shook my head. Our love for this woman was immeasurable.

Among her many treasures was the birdhouse that Jason had made in 10th grade woodshop class. It had earned a place of honor on the outer rail of the wooden porch. Gran and I would spend many a morning listening to the songs of birds flittering in and out. We would laugh at each other and try to mimic the birds with our own whistles. I had painted it for him, the same colors as our home, pale yellow walls and white shutters. In place of the gray slate roof of our real home, I had chosen a light blue to match the sky. Looking at it now, half broken against the porch and spattered with red dots that from a distance could've been mistaken for painted lady bugs, filled me with unbridled sorrow. The red mingling with the mornings cold dew gave off an irradescent sheen as if it were filled with glitter. I turned my face away. I couldn't, wouldn't look at it. Instead I turned my eyes to the flower beds that lined the house. These too were once Gran's pride and joy. I thought of the countless hours she'd spent tending to the prized bushes; her trusty iron trowel in hand whistling songs of happiness and giving life lessons disguised as gardening tips. I closed my eyes and imagined them in full bloom; delicate explosions of pinks and purples. The fragrant blooms scented the summer night air and more memories washed over me. I could see my brother and I chasing fireflies around the yard. Gran always called them "Fairy lights". She said that if we ever wandered too far from home that the Fairy lights would lead us back. And so we weaved in and out of Gran's flower beds as the smells of summer permeated through us, in our hair, our clothes, sunlight and sunscreen, the aromatic night air and the sacchrine sweet smell of sweaty children. I always imagined it smelled like magic. Summer, innocence, safety, home. Nothing else need exist in our tiny corner of the world, nothing else mattered.

But as dawn began to break cold on that February morning, those imagined blooms were gone. In their place, brown skeletal branches scratched against the peeling paint of the house. The Benelli lay exposed; its wood grain handle imprinting in the muddy mulch and its steel barrell gathering frost. Half frozen condensation dripped like tears off the trusty gun, unlike my own tears which whether frozen behind my eyes or my mind was still too in shock to release them, had refused to come. Even though winter in Lousiana is mild, that morning chilled me to my bones. I blew out a breath and watched it steam in front of me and swirl away toward the heavens carrying unwhispered prayers of "please let this not be real, let this all be a bad dream".

Sheriff Bud Dearborn's gentle steps through the crisp grass reminded me solemnly that it wasn't either of those things. His approach could have as well been those of a giant stomping through a tiny village, the grass crunching beneath his feet mimicking the sound of glass breaking in compared to the silence that surrounded us. Bud had been a friend to the Stackhouse's for as long as I could remember. He was old for as long as I could remember. But truth be told he was roughly the same age as Gran and I could tell with my "other ears", that he was struggling to find the words to say to me. It was just as well, I don't imagine I would've had anything to say in return. Instead, I pulled my worn plaid house coat tighter around my waist and hugged myself for warmth, for strength. My eyes soon fixed on the grisly scene ahead of me; searching the wooded backdrop for the Fairy lights of my childhood to lead me back to the home I once knew. With my regular ears I could faintly hear the keening wails of Adele Stackhouse from inside the kitchen. The rest was blessed silence.

The signs had been there, for anyone willing to see. But there is a certain denial that comes from having to accept that the people you love are no longer quite the people you love. It started small, about two years ago. Gran would misplace things. Occasionally I would find the keys to the car in the refrigerator or she would turn the house upside down looking for her reading glasses only to pass a mirror and find them sitting on top of her lovely white hair. She would laugh her musical laugh which lit up her whole face and added a twinkle to her eyes and say to me, "Oh, Sookie be thankful for your youth, one day you won't be able to find your nose on your own face." Months later I would find her in the living room, her hand on the door knob and a look of genuine concern on her beautiful wrinkled face.

"Gran, is everything ok?", I asked cautiously. She paused and looked thoughtfully at me and again at the door knob before smiling nervously.

"Mmmhmm, yes dear, I just can't seem to remember if I'm coming or going. Perhaps it's best if I just go lie down awhile".

The last six months had showm a real decline in Gran's well being. I remembered the call as if it were yesterday. I was working the lunch shift at Merlotte's. Aside from the Renard Parish Road crew, which was comprised almost entirely of boys I had grown up with and included my brother Jason, the bar was almost empty. As most days, Layfayette had music blasting from the kitchen and was singing along to "Dontcha wish your girlfriend was hot like me", making up his own vulgar and nasty lyrics to boot. I took the boys' order to the window and thrust it annoyed towards the flamboyant short order cook.

"You know, Layfayette, Sam's not gonna like it if you keep singing those nasty songs where everyone can hear. This is a family place." I'd said with just a little too much righteous dignation. I instantly felt bad. I smiled my best real smile to let him know I was teasing.

"Sookie, my lil cookie," he began with his exaggerated southern drawl, "Sam in his office doing God knows what, and besides, how d' you think a family get started?" He scrunched up his face and began thrusting his hips and grunting. I gasped and covered my eyes embarrassed.

"Lafayette, STOP!", I begged through the giggles.

"Sookie, who gonna see me?", he asked waving his spatula around the room, " Ain't nobody up in here 'cept your fine ass brother and the Lord God knows he already hit e'erything in Bon Temps...twice".

I couldn't argue with that. Jason did have quite the reputation as a ladies man. I figured it was probably just fine that I was a 25 year old virgin who had only ever been to second base with JB Durone before his thoughts about "finishing" before third brought that to a screeching halt. My brother was having enough relations for three men and probably relations with those three men's wives or girlfriends if the rumors were true. Layfayette snapped me out of my moment of self pity.

"Now, Sook, whatchu need is a big, strong man to do you right and 'fore you know it, you be shakin' that tight ass and singing with me. Trust it girl, sometimes when you ain't lookin' I sees the way boss man lookin' at you," he leered at me. I was shocked at the revelation. Sam Merlotte was my friend,my boss. Although he was handsome in his own shaggy way, I never looked at Sam that way.

"Sam?", I questioned in disbelief.

"Sookie!,", I heard my name called from behind the bar. Lafayette could only raise his eyebrows and pucker his glossed lips as if to say, "told ya". I turned to see Sam raking his hands through his reddish brown mop of hair. I said a quick silent prayer that my embarrassment over my conversation with Lafayette didn't show. The closer he got, the less I worried about me and the more I began to worry about him. Sam looked distraught, scared. He rushed over to me, placing his strong hands on my arms and steading me for the upcoming blow. This was going to be bad. I could never"read" Sam, his thoughts were always fuzzy to me and at that point, I didn't think I'd want to. Sam's thoughts came to me as colors and this was a loud grey/green. It felt like fear, sickness, caution.

"Sookie, it's Adele. Something's wrong. I just got a call from Patrice Lefevre over at the Monroe library. Your Gran is there and well, 'chere, she's making quite a scene. She won't let anyone near her, screaming and hollering about your grandaddy. It sounds real bad, chere." he shook his head slowly, staring into my eyes with a sorrow I'd never seen from him before. " Patrice called an ambulance and they're on the way to help."

In the time it took me to absorb what I'd heard, Jason rushed up behind me.

"Sis, get in the truck we're going" and before I could speak, tell Sam thank you or remember my own name, we were out the door and headed towards Monroe and our Gran. We made the whole trip in silence. It didn't occur to me to peek in Jason's head to see what he was thinking. I could tell from his clenched jaw, his deep exasperated sighs and the way he would angrily wipe at the tears forming in his eyes that he was thinking the same thing I was; our Gran was leaving us. In her place would be a ghost of the lady we loved so fiercely who, as Dr. Burke had told us at her last visit, may forget when to go to the bathroom, forget who we are, forget who she is, forget to eat, forget even how to swallow. He suggested we think about putting her in an old folks home eventually. He said that the stuggle to care for someone with Gran's problem was too overwhelming for two young people just starting their lives. He didn't know that we owed our very lives to the woman sitting outside the door making confused pleasant small-talk with his receptionist.

As the tears came hot and salty from my eyes, Jason reached over and grabbed my hand tightly in his, "We'll get through this, Sis. This thing and the next thing and the next thing after that.", he brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed it quickly. " Gran's not going anywhere. We're all we've got left." In that moment I wanted nothing more than to believe him. I needed to believe him. And so I did.

That day with Gran had indeed been the worst of it. My heart broke into a million tiny pieces and as I took in the damage that she had done. Books were strewn all over the floor, tables and globes knocked over. Patrice Lefevre was being seen to by the paramedic for a cut on her cheek where a particularly heavy book had been thrown at her. Jason stayed with her, trying to piece together what had happened. I could hear the pity in Patrice's mind, "Poor Ms. Stackhouse finally gone 'round the bend". I approached Gran softly. She lay back on the ambulance cot breathing oxygen through a mask. The paramedic with her told me he'd given her a shot of medication to help calm her. As I looked into her eyes I could see the glazed, far away look that was the cost of being calm.

"Gran?," I whispered to her, "It's Sookie, you're going to be ok, you're going to be ok. You're safe now."

She turned her head slowly towards the sound of my voice looking through me not at me, " Sookie?, what an unusual name. Tell me girl, did I know you? Oh you're such a pretty thing, I'm sure you were there in the woods too..." her voice trailed off as she looked around. Her thoughts kept coming at me, louder than her voice and I could feel undertones of sadness, confusion and fear, such overwhelming fear.

She didn't know me. She didn't recognize me. As I knelt on the floor, I gave in to the sadness that wracked me and felt its full weight drag my shoulders down as I sobbed.

"What's wrong dear?" Gran asked in response to my tears, " are you hurt? Did they hurt you too? Oh, my this will not do..." she continued uninterrupted in her disoirented banter until Jason came and knelt with me, wrapping a consoling arm around my shoulders.

"YOU GET AWAY FROM HER!", Gran screamed, shocking both Jason and I back to the grim reality of the situation. "If your brother were here, he'd KILL you where you stand..."

Before the shock could register and before she could continue growling at my brother, the paramedic at her side raised another needle full of sedative and plunged it into her arm. She fell mercifully silent within minutes and soon we heard the peaceful snores of sleep.

We brought her home from the hospital two nights later against the better judgement of Dr. Burke. Things fell into an uneasy peace around the Stackhouse home. We were always on guard and Jason and I made an unofficial pact that Gran would never be left alone. It seemed like that burden was shifted to me after a few weeks. Jason had become the absentee guardian. I worried that Gran's violent outburst at the library was the cause.

"Jas, you ok? You know that Gran was not in her right mind when she yelled at you. She didn't know us for a minute, she was scared is all." I pleaded with him over dinner. We each sat with a full plate of fried ham and potatoes untouched in front of us. Neither of us had much of an appetite these days. I'd begun to notice that my once snug shorts were now a little looser around the waist and my usually bright eyes were now rimmed in the black bags of sleepless nights. Jason seemed to wear his battle scars with much less effort. Some mornings I'd swear he was glowing. His eyes were bright and shiny, he never lacked for energy or strength. I knew that he left us every night at sundown for the last month, maybe he went home and went straight to sleep. It's amazing what a few hours of uninterrupted sleep can do for a body, or so I've heard.

"Yes, Sook, I'm ok. I know that wasn't my fault, hell it's not her fault. It's just..." he dropped off.

"Just what, Jas?" I prodded.

"It's just that things don't make any sense Sookie. Look, I know how Doc Burke says this Old Timers disease works, but with Gran...it's like she's looking for something, searching for something. Like...like she's got something to do that's real important or say that's real important."

I nodded my head in agreement. Gran's confusion had taken on a need and a life of it's own. There was an urgency to it. Every evening when I had taken her the fresh squeezed lemonade that had recently become the only thing she would drink, she'd ask me if I'd seen her letters. Over and over the letters. On Jason's lemonade trips, he too had been questioned about the letters. At night I'd hear her in her room talking to herself in that same urgent tone. Other nights she would sing and laugh to herself and still other nights there were heated arguments with herself. Jason had looked for these "letters of Gran's .He'd spent days tracking years old attic dust through the house and opening old family bibles until he eventually gave up the hunt. Or he found something else to capture his imagination. I was in the process of mentally shrugging my shoulders when Jason spoke,

" I'm not going to be around the next few nights", he said suddenly. The look and disappointment on my face must've spurred him into finishing that thought because before I could protest he continued, "I've got a friend who..specializes in things with folks' memories. I'm thinking maybe she could help Gran remember what it is she's looking for."

A woman? Typical Jason Stackouse. I didn't even have the strength to be disappointment or disgusted. And I also couldn't do the Boot Scootin' Boogie all over his efforts if he was genuinely trying to help.

"Sure, Jason, that sounds great", I managed with a sympathetic smile, "We'll see you in a few days, I love you."

"Love you too, Sook. Kiss Gran goodnight for me..."

The resuming broken glass under Sheriff's Dearborn's feet as he shuffled closer to me, brought me back to the here and now. Once again, I didn't need him to tell me what would happen next. I had seen the blue van meander it's way up the crooked drive and watched in silence as Mike Spencer and his newest assistant climbed out of the back pulling with them a white gurney covered by a thick black bag. Mike's assistant was an unually loud broadcaster and his thoughts rolled off him like waves shocking the prisitine silence like a lightening strike.

"Poor sonofabitch", he thought, "I figured this tom cat would meet the end of a loaded barrel one day. I figured it would be on account of a jealous husband, not his own Gran. Lord, that poor old woman, I bet she don't even know what she did. Oh, there's that hot piece of ass Sookie, I wonder if she'll need some consoling after all this is done.".

In the back of my mind a felt a tingle, a small nudge that reminded me of a butterfly swarming a flower. Drifting just close enough to touch, but not enough to disturb and felt my attention drawn to the source. A spot in the woods just past Mike's van. Someone was there watching, but no one was there watching. A soft black vaccuum that was a welcome respite from the assistants vile thoughts.

As quick as it came, it was gone. And I stood there alone; frozen to the same February earth and watched them carefully load my brother's body into that black bag.

**All chapters come with a free song to set the mood...this Chapter- "Did I know you?" by Cynthia Scott**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: WOW! I finally understand what other writers mean when they say "reviews are like crack". Everyone that has followed or favorited or reviewed; you are A-mazing!**

Chapter 2

Curiousity Kills

The next 24 hours came and went as a blur. I slept when I could close my eyes and not see Jason's lifeless body lying frozen in the grass. Those few brief minutes too often interrupted by the knocking of folks bringing sympathy and condolences to our door. At those times the blunt raps on the old door jolted me from my partial slumber as surely as the gunshots had. With each new visit, I was violently awake and rushing to my bedroom window, panic overtaking me. My heart beat pounding into my head and all the way down into my fingertips, my breath came in quick short bursts and then exhaustion resumed again. Giving up on the prospect of sleep I stood looking out the bedroom window which had a bird's eye view of the scene of my family tragedy. My head rested against the cool window pane as I watched like a princess high in her tower, the changing of the guard. Sheriff Dearborn and Detective Andy Bellefleur had taken up shifts watching over the house. I wasn't quite sure why. They had both assured me that Gran wouldn't be arrested and booked for her crime. No matter how overzealous Andy Bellefleur might have been at times to make a big name for himself in the small town of Bon Temps, even he couldn't bring himself to handcuff Adele Stackhouse, pillar of the community, even if she had become a frail, demented spector of her former self. Or maybe because of that. Instead it was what Reverend Newsome and his wife had named it when they came calling this morning, "An accident, a horrible, horrible accident". It was at least the one thing in a long time that the town could agree on.

I made a quick trip to the rest room and splashed cold water on my face in an effort to wash away some of the tiredness. It didn't help. I had been playing the part of the grieving grandaughter for a while now, my face was already ready for mourning sister. I headed downstairs to meet Andy at the door. He'd no doubt want to try to talk to Gran about what happened. Maybe it was the policeman in him, maybe it was the fact that his own grandmother was older than Gran and he had a morbid curiosity about what might be in store for her? Who could say? I knew what happened as soon as it happened. Gran had been getting more confused at night, scared to be alone and paranoid. Dr. Burke had warned Jason and I both that this often occured. Jason slipped home that night to a frightened old woman, who was confused, whose eyesight was failing her and she mistook him for an intruder. No CSI needed. No team from the Jeffersonian with high-tech computers and genius PhD's. Horrible, horrible accident.

I met Andy at the door. He greeted me with Caroline Bellefleur's famous chocolate cake. It would be a great step up from the macaroni salad Maxine Fortenberry had brought earlier in the day.

"Evening, Andy", I said with as much politeness as my tired body could muster, "please come in".

Andy nodded his balding head and smiled in kind before stepping around me and walking the chocolate cake to it's designated place at the center of the table. Caroline Bellefluer;s chocolate cake was was famous in the small town of Bon Temps, it wouldn't suit to have it cast off on the buffet table. What would Gran think? We walked into the small living room and took our seats, Andy on the couch and I in the oversized chair with it's almost thread bare arm rests. There was no love lost between Andy Bellefleur and my brother. Jason always said that Andy used his badge against him because he was jealous of his good looks and athletic ability. Women, it seemed to Jason, was also an area of envy for the older Bellefluer. But on more than one occasion when I'd had the honor of picking my brother up following a bar room brawl too many, I'd seen that Andy only did what he had to do, even though Jason never saw it that way. Vanity, Jason is thy name. Or was your name, I quickly thought to myself. Several quick trips inside Andy's thoughts led me to discover that all he really wanted was to be taken seriously. In his head he'd called Jason an "arrogant, little self important prick" from time to time. And I suppose looking at Andy it would be easy to think that Jason's good looks might be the reason. Andy Bellefleur was not an attractive man in the traditional sweep you off your feet way with his balding head and awkard smile. But inside where it counted, he was a good man. Turned out that his biggest grudge against my brother was that he thought that when Jason talked, people listened. It didn't matter to him that it was only his road crew buddies. It was somebody.

This night, no animosity toward Jason lingered. Andy's only thoughts were if he could do anything to help Gran and I. As he looked around our home and it's worn but well loved furnishings he wondered to himself how we could afford Jason's burial expenses. And like clockwork, he was embarrassed when he remembered the rumors that I might be able to hear him. All kinds of people in town knew about my telepathy. Some believed it as gospel and some, like Andy Bellefleur, was never sure and never brave enough to ask. I'd gotten from his thoughts that despite his reservations about Jason, he'd had a genuine like for me and a genuine respect for Gran. I decided to let him off the hook.

"It's ok Andy," I sighed, gently twining my fingers in and out of the old homemade afgan that draped over the edge of my chair "I'm too tired to be offended and I know in your heart you'd only want to help, not judge us."

Andy dropped his head and laughed nervously and cleared his throat, "Ahem..How's your Gran tonight Sookie?

That was the million dollar question. Gran had spent the better part of the day rocking in her old chair staring out the back window saying nothing. When she did speak it came in short bursts of unfinished sentences, "You know," she would begin, "I had", she started. Rarely in her sleep she would mumble a name that meant nothing to me.

"She's the same. I don't know if she fully understands what happened, " I rubbed my eyes with the heel of my hand and yawned deep, "she's said a name a few times, but I don't recognize it. Dr. Burke says sometimes the long term memory works better than the short term memory and folks think they're still young, that sort of thing. Maybe this person is an old boyfriend?" I shrugged.

I could sense the excitement in Andy's voice as he asked, "Well, what was the name Sookie? Maybe I can do a search on it?" He quickly tempered his excitement when I hung my head in defeat. The man was going to offer to pay for your brother's service Sookie, I thought to myself, just give him the name. What could it possibly hurt at this point?

"Delmont? Delbert? I don't know Andy, something like that." I finally offered

"Well which is..." he started before my fatigued expression shamed him into silence. He started over, "Have you been in the house all day alone with her?"

"Alone, no", I answered, "Mrs. Fortenberry's been here twice. Beulah Larue, Maude Shockey, all the ladies from Gran's bridge club and half the Daughter's of the American Revolution came by. Oh and Clive Pritchard stopped by to see if I would be interested in selling the Benelli.", my mind seethed at the memory of that conversation. "Tara and Lafayette, Sam and Hoyt all came by to pay thier respects too." I'd expected to see the rest of the would-be mourners at Jason's actual funeral, but according to Mike Spencer, that was still two days away. And honestly I could wait to meet them, the few that I did encounter already had been more than enough for me. I hated to seem ungracious, but it was just the truth.

The onslaught of thoughts pouring off those who had come by had been overwhelming. I'd always found it odd that when emotions ran high, people were easier to read. And there had been so much raw emotion today, mine included. Grief, loss, anxiety fear ran rampant through my fellow mourners. I was more than a little unnerved that only a minority of thoughts were actually directed towards the loss of Jason. I'd expected people to feel sorry for me, although in my mind "pity" was the ugliest four-letter word I could think of. I knew people would worry about what would become of Gran. There were more than a few passing thought suggestions that I should put her into a nursing home. The visions I picked out of Maude Shockey's brain as she sat quietly holding Gran's hand assured me that I would never submit Gran to that, no matter what the personal cost to me. I was still in middle school when her husband, Robert, had gone to the old folks home. He had taken to walking to the mailbox in nothing but his underpants and trying to sneak the car out of the driveway. On one such occassion they had found him all the way over in Clarice where he had wrecked the car into a retaining wall in front of an Elementary school. Maude's thoughts told me she had regretted that decision since the day she'd made it. I could see in her mind the locked hall where the patients lived. It's apricot colored walls and beiged tile floors weathered with use. In her memories were the smell of human soil and disinfectant spray. The sounds were those of people screaming out unintelligible things at the tops of their lungs, all day, every day. It was her personal hell and thanks to my telepathy I felt like I had lived it with her. I had to mentally shake myself and force my attention back to Andy who waited patiently, sympathetically, for me to snap out of my haze.

When I had finally roused enough to look Andy in the eye, his face wore a mask of genuine concern. Even his mind told me that he was afraid I was close to a breaking point.

"Sookie," he began in that backward humbled voice he sometimes owned, " I know we ain't never been good friends and I'd never try to tell you what to do...aw hell, grandma is gonna skin me for this..." his voice faltered.

"What is it Andy?" I asked. There were few things in this world Caroline Bellefleur would find worthy of a skinning. She was a true southern lady, just like Gran was, as long a good manners were involved, little else mattered. Andy hesitated and then rolled his eyes at the ceiling and sighed before continuing.

"Have you thought about getting a nurse to come in and help with your Gran? Not all the time, mind you, just enough to give you a little bit of a break."

Before I had the opportunity to kiss his cheek for the best idea I'd ever heard and then politely decline because A: family takes care of family and B: how would I afford a private duty nurse on a waitress salary, he laid another surprise at my feet.

"Grandma has a nurse that comes in three times a week.", he said suddenly, "She helps her in and out of the bath, makes sure she's taking her blood pressure medicine right. She's a right fine woman too, Sookie. I could call her if you want. I figure since she's already in Bon Temps, it wouldn't be no trouble to swing by here and check up on you and your Gran." Andy was smiling now, that big awkard smile that so many found off-putting but I was beginning to find endearing. I could soon see in his mind what he was smiling about. She was a small woman, probably a few years older than me with delicate, lovely features. Her skin was the color of caramels and her hair the darkest black, thick and long in a thousand little braids all held together in one big braid down her back. She had round cheery cheeks and full lips and when she smiled, her whole face was a glow. She had the whitest, movie star smile I had ever seen, but her eyes were absolutely stunning; a shade of green so brilliant it was like looking into two royal gems. He had watched her many times as she cared for Mrs. Bellefleur. He liked that as she worked and comforted the old woman she would hum or sometimes sing old gospel hymnals. Andy thought her voice sounded like an angel. I looked at him carefully, oh my stars, Andy Bellefleur was blushing as he realized I had picked up on every thought. I couldn't help smiling back, with my widest and best smile too. Even in the face of tragedy, love is all you need, right?

Andy waited patiently for me to answer, silently hoping that I'd agree. He'd imagined that the more time Abby Morningstar spent in Bon Temps, the more likely he was to see her. I couldn't begrudge him that. So his intentions weren't exactly pure, are anybody's these days? And oh my, even though the thought of leaving Gran would cause the guilt to heap around my shoulders like a thick winter coat, it was tempting.

I sighed, "Andy, your offer is really tempting, you can't imagine. But let's say I did take you up on it, where would I go? Merlottes?" I laughed right out loud at that. "People would really start calling me 'Crazy Sookie' when word got out that I paid good money for someone to sit with Gran, so I could take a break..by going to my job...and seeing the exact same folks who just left my house."

Andy's eyes almost bugged out of his head distorting his already awkardly animated features, an unsophisticated "D'Oh" rushed out of his mouth as he slammed his hand on the end table with such force that it nearly up-ended the lamp, "Sookie, I can't believe no one told you..well I mean of course no one told you, you been kinda busy...Jesus I'm insensitive sometimes, Sookie..I'm sorry." His words all jumbled togther in a big excited streak.

"Andy it's fine, just spit it out." I said.

Andy's face resumed it's previous 'kid on christmas morning' glow as he proudly reported, "Merlotte's got it's first vampire last night."

Well, that, I didn't expect to hear. I guess my gasp of shock just spurred Andy further.

"Yeah, Sookie, his name is Bill Compton, can you believe that? Compton..like old man Compton over past the cemetary." He rattled on, "I guess when old James passed on he decided to come back here and claim the old homestead..that 'Vampires are Americans too' campaign or something. Anyway, I heard tell that he was turned into a vampire 'round the Civil War. Folks say he's a real gentleman too, Sam don't seem to trust him none but he's been cordial so long as sticks to that mainstreaming..." Andy's thoughts were once again a frenzied blur. Somewhere during his rant about the misconceptions and mainstreaming my thoughts drifted back to what everyone called The Great Reveal, when vampires came out of the coffin.

It had been two years past, right about the time Gran started getting forgetful. It had been all over the news and I rushed right home as fast as my little car and legs would carry me. I burst through the back door to find Gran at the kitchen table, her glasses slid down her nose and her head in one of her stories.

"Gran...Gran", I'd yelled with all the ferver of a child with a secret, "Gran vampires are real! Did you hear that, REAL?"

In her measured response she merely pointed one finger towards the dog-eared page of her book, raised an eyebrow and said calmy, "I told you dear, there's always a little bit of truth in the stories."

Much to my disappointment, the rest of Bon Temps acted similairly in regards to the fact that the 'un-dead' walked among us, worked at the grocery store, starred in movies and sometimes held public office. I had expected a scandal, but got nothing but indifference. I guess the folks of Bon Temps had bigger fish to fry. For them, it was enough that they found good jobs, got their kids through school and paid the bills. Just so long as they didn't have a 'vamper' actively staring down their neck, they were content to live and let, um, un-live. As a telepath; from one thing that should not be to another, I'd found that my curiosity was almost limitless. On my days off from Merlotte's, I'd find myself making excuses to run over to Monroe or Clarice. I'd tell Gran that I was going to the store or running errands for Sam but in truth I was hidden at the library computer looking over the internet for any information I could find.

One thing about surfing the internet was certain, you could never be sure how much truth was mixed in with the fiction. New websites had sprung up all over, some where in favor of our newest neighbors and couldn't wait to tell you how much like us they were. Pictures and videos showed them doing everyday mundane things like pumping gas or out for an evening jog. There was Steve, the Vampire Accountant who was open from 11:00pm until 6:00 am to help with you tax season needs. I had to admit, short of looking like he'd never seen a Lousiana summer (and he hadn't actually), Steve didn't look any different than a normal, human accountant. Of course I had to remind myself that to everyone else, I looked like a normal barmaid. On the other side of the coin, new 'churches' had popped up all over the country seemingly overnight. Naming themselves the 'Fellowship of the Sun', their websites proclaimed the sort of hate and bigotry that would've shamed the Klan. Their pictures and videos clearly more amatuer than the pro-vampire ones. Actors stalked a little girl in campy, fake oversized fangs and then the girl was shown screaming with what looked like ketchup on her neck.

The ones that were right down the middle were they one's that I found to be the most interesting. It was forum of humans, curious like me, about vampires. They shared stories of their own experiences or those "friend of a friend" experiences. Of course there were some misguided humans who thought they were vampires, dressing all in black, painting their faces white and naming themselves things like Raven Bloodstone, and there were folks who wanted to be vampires. They'd spent hours weighing the pros and cons, but being 'turned' always came up on top for them. Then there were the 'Fangbangers', women and men who to hear them tell it had sex with vampires and let them drink their blood. Their stories were often so graphic that I found myself blushing in front of the computer screen. According to them vampires were supposed to be extraordinary lovers, I guess they'd had a lot of practice. Most of the women, and some men, obsessed about this one particular vampire bar in Shreveport, Fangtasia. Fangtasia? Really?. If anyone ever wondered if all the vampires were in cahoots on some great big joke on the human population, a bar named Fangtasia would would settle that bet. It even had it's own sub-forum and there were hundreds of threads dedicated to the 'blond Viking god' as they called him. Even though no-one had any real information to speak of, the rabid posters all agreed that he was at least 1000 years old and an honest to god Viking before he was turned...oh and "so fucking hot", can't forget that. There were more than a dozen posts about the things the 'fangbangers' wanted to do to this vampire, some things I'm quite certain aren't even legal in the state of Louisiana. But no one had actually ever claimed to get close enough to him to do it.

I knew that Jason had gone to Fangtasia once, maybe twice. I overheard him telling Lafayette about it one evening in the bar. As quick as I approached they both shushed up pretty quick like they'd been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. But I wondered if Jason had ever seen him? I decided to bite the bullet and visit the Fangtasia website. They advertised a store that sold all sorts of kitschy items that would no doubt appeal to tourists; black thong panties with white fangs designed on the front, blood red t-shirts with the Fangtasia logo and a caption that read " Life begins at dark". They also sold a promotional calendar. I looked around carefully to make sure no one was looking and clicked the thumbnail to open the pictures.

And there he was, the infamous Viking of internet fandom. Jesus Christ, Sheppard of Judea.

After reminding myself that breathing was a necessity, I continued to stare. He was without question the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. His long blond hair thrown casually over one muscular shoulder. His attire, which consisted only of a stragically placed fur blanket, left very little to the imagination his porcelain skin looked like silk pulled over a marble Adonis statue. The perfect, strong features of his face with just a hint of a smile. But it was his eyes, those piercing blue eyes that almost looked like they were inviting me to step into the picture that captured me. There was something there for sure, something familair, something I had seen somewhere before. Then it hit me. Have you ever been to the zoo and seen the tiger enclosure? One of nature's most perfect predators lounging behind the glass, soaking up the sun. We can't help but be drawn to them, their bored indiffence at our goings on. Their keepers come once, twice a day, and shovel meat in their direction to keep them fed and keep them just this side of wild. But he doesn't want to be fed, he craves the hunt. And if we would just slip over that glass enclosure...just far enough...

Andy's hurried tones grabbed my attention as I filed the 'beautiful but deadly' information away for later. In all the time it had taken me to recollect my various research on vampires, Andy Bellefleur had yet to miss a beat, or it appeared take a breath.

"..."And some say he's got a woman living with him in that old house, I ain't seen her yet. I hear he's got her under his 'thrall', Andy wriggled his fingers beside his head as if to emphasize the spookiness of the word.

"It's called a glamour, Andy", I said matter-of-factly. Thank you very much Google for me making me Bon Temps' resident authority on vampires. As quickly as the thought entered my head, the word glamour made me think of another article I had recently read.

A study conducted at a presitgious University in California. Researchers there had tested the properties of vampire blood. Only willing vampires participated, of course, but both human and vampires alike had been on the fence about what good could come from it .I had read on the human forum that vampire blood could be used as a drug. "V- addicts" were becoming just as prevelant as regular old addicts, but this trial spoke of the potential healing properties of the blood from minimizing scar tissue to assisting with fractures. There were distinct possibilites that it could be used to cure or at least slow down cancer. Further in to the study, the researchers wrote about a sort of vampire mind control. Debates aplenty arose around this suggestion and there was even a link inside the research to an article written by an opponent of vampires used in human healthcare titled, "Vampire Hypnotism; One look away from clucking like a chicken to being a chicken dinner". But the scientists in the study wouldn't be deterred. They'd insisted that by using what the vampires referred to as "glamour", soldiers returning from war could be treated successfully for PTSD. They'd even went so far to hypothesize that any problem with the human mind could be cured or controlled by glamour. What could that mean for my little problem? What could it mean for Gran's?

My mind jumped quick to the last conversation I had with Jason.

_"I'm not going to be around the next couple nights...I've got a friend who specializes in things with folks' memories and she might be able to help Gran." _

Before I changed my mind, I made good on my internal offer to kiss Andy's cheek and shocked him into being still long enough to look at me like I'd grown a second head.

"Alright Andy, you've convinced me", I said smiling. "How soon can Abby be here? I'd like to be at Merlotte's before first dark if possible."

While Andy made the necessary call, I dashed upstairs to prepare for my very own 'Interview with a Vampire".

TBC :K

**This chapter's musical offering...Curiosity Kills by Jane's Addicition**.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: So this is a little bit of a transition chapter. We have a few characters to "meet" before the action gets rolling. To all who've reviewed or followed. THANK YOU!

On with the show...

Chapter 3

Leaving Home

My body was on autopilot in the hot shower; relishing in the simplistic ritual of scrubbing my body pink. My fingers gently scratched into my scalp in an effort to release all the days 's always something soothing about actions so natural and familair. This shower had oddly enough become my refuge of late. It was a warm comfortable place in my cold and uncomfortable world. Here in the confines of the bathroom, I didn't need to be the brave, strong-willed Sookie that people depended on. Some days, I allowed myself the luxury of tears, but today I didn't have time for that sort of self-pity. I stayed with the hot spray against my back until fragrant steam carried all distractions far above the blue and white flowered shower curtain. I needed all my energy focused on the task that lay in front of me; asking a perfect stranger for help, a perfect vampire stanger no less. It's true, my pride and need to be self-sufficient had seen me turn down a helping hand many times. I'd had good reason, of course. Most offers I'd recieved to help out revolved around money or help with household repairs. I was an able bodied, healthy young woman, money was easily attainable if I'd just get to work. But this problem was bigger than my work ethic, bigger than anything I could imagine. And so far as I knew, no one else had the ways or the means to lend a hand.

In my plan, I'd arrive at Merlotte's before the sun had officially set for the evening. I'd be surrounded by friends, people who had known me my whole life. I'd certainly have the home field advantage. My plan began playing in my mind like a naive child's day dream. I'd casually approach said vampire, explain my situation and he, being a true southern gentleman would surely be more than happy to lend a hand. Perhaps at the end there'll be a puppy? I placed my hands on the cool tile of the shower surround and lowered my head laughing at my absurdity. Shampoo cascaded down my face stinging my eyes and tingling in my nose, and still I laughed. Perhaps I was as crazy as everyone thought.

And while I had spent the better part of 20 minutes convincing myself that my plan would work, I'd had very little appreciation for what could happen if it did. If I could successfully convince Mr. Compton to glamour my Gran,would she remember shooting Jason? Would she relive in her mind the last terrifying moments of Jason's life as she took it away from him? It would devastate her, destroy her in ways that Alzhiemers couldn't. No, I couldn't do that. I'd need to change my game plan.

I stood now in front of the steamed mirror staring at the girl looking back at me. In spite of the ugliness that lay ahead of her, she was still a girl who was mildly excited about the prospect of going out for the evening. For so long my life had been simply to go from work to home and back again with the occasional trip to Dr. Burke's office that I wasn't even sure that I could make polite small talk with anyone without asking if I could get them a bottle of ketchup or coax them into taking medications they didn't want. But tonight's excursion was more of a social call. All too soon, I was humming to myself, smiling at my reflection. My skin tone had taken a beating over the last several months and although I'd never been one for heavy make-up, I decided that a little tinted moisturizer couldn't possibly hurt. I was still smiling as my fingers slid gracefully across the apples of my cheeks, the sallow spots under my eyes, the bridge of my nose and down to the slender column of my neck where they rested gingerly on my pulse point. I felt it's beat, the steady thump of life just beneath the surface and felt my breath catch. In that moment the "beautiful but deadly" file crept back into the center of my imagination. I raised my chin, exposing my neck until the steady beat was not only palpable but visible. A small tingle of fear began working it's self slowly, steadily, up my spine. The videos and photos released by the Fellowship of the Sun had been cheesy and seemingly far-fetched it's true. But somewhere in a part of my mind it's propaganda had taken root. For the first time since I'd hatched this plan, the very real thought that I may not be coming home again entered my mind.

I finished the rest of my modest beauty ritual in silence and reflected on the seriousness of my endeavor. I'd decided that my only focus would be Gran. Questions about my telepathy would be best left for another day. She had sacrificed so much for Jason and I and so hers became the only plight that mattered. If I could just help her find what it was that she seemed to be looking for. If I could rouse enough of her memory to give her peace then I could sacrifice never having the "old Gran" back. I could, and would, do anything for her.

I walked solemnly into my bedroom, still caught in the melancholy that this might be the last time. I looked around my meager belongings and thought to myself that this was a child's bedroom. It's yellow and white flowered quilt, with a fluffy stuffed bunny holding court against the small white pillowcases. I'd brought that bunny with me from home when mama and daddy died and even though I had grown well past the age of playing with stuffed animals, there was a part of me that couldn't bear to see it go into the darkness of the closet. I picked it up and held to my chest, it's ragged flopping ears and it's missing glass eye. I carried it with me around the room walking slowly to the tiny white vanity that set adjacent to the window. Gently fingering the worn photos of mama and daddy that stuck in the mirror there. There were pictures of Gran, pictures of Tara and I on the school field trip to New Orleans. I'd always loved that picture. Sunlight had bounced around the bronzed statue of the horsed rider behind us and it captured on film as a lovely lavendar haze around us. I stared in close at the picture of Jason and I standing on the dock of pond behind mama and daddy's house. We were fishing with nothing more than two sticks and some garden twine, back to back with the sun setting over our shoulders and again the moment was captured in the light purple radiance.

I began to hear muffled voices downstairs and knew that Abby had arrived. I stilled my body and listened in to her trying to see if she was indeed as good as Andy had imagined her. I was surprised to find that her mind was a lot like Sam's. Abby's mind was gold, glowing and warm. The more I focused on her, the warmer it became, I could feel it spilling it's warmth into me and spreading from my chest outward. It felt like happiness, it felt like love, it felt like being wrapped in a fresh blanket just out of the dryer on a cold winters day. I finished dressing and hurried to meet her. I took one last look around the bedroom and knew that I would indeed return here. Changed, no longer a child, but here just the same. The old Bible passage came to my mind, " When I was a child, I talked like a child. I thought like a child. I reasoned like a child. When I became a man (or woman as the case may be), I put away childish things." And I welcomed that transition with open arms.

I'd found that my mood had lightened significantly with each step downward until I reached the living room. I was feeling light as air and smiling for reasons I couldn't quite put my finger on. Andy smiled back, looking to me and then back to where Abby sat. His memories had not done her justice. There were women who like me, were just pretty enough, and there were women who were more than lovely. And then there was Abby, ethereal, angelic and pure. I watched awestruck as her fingers weaved lightly through Gran's silver hair with all the grace of an artist, rubbing circles into the old woman's temples. She whispered something in her soft Creole accent and Gran visibly relaxed under her skill and laughed. It was a soothing balm to my tired soul to see the healing art in action and I knew no matter what the outcome of tonights exercise, Gran would be safe with her.

Andy's guttural clearing of his throat interrupted my musings, "Um..Sookie, this is Abby Morningstar. Abby, this is Sookie Stackhouse, Miss Adele's granddaughter. Abby rose and walked to meet me, gently caressing Gran as she passed by.

"'Tis a pleasure to meet you, bote ti kras mwen", she smiled. The cadence of her voice was musical, lovely.

" It's real nice to meet you too, Ms. Morningstar," I offered, "Detective Bellefleur speaks real highly of you. I thank you for coming out on such short notice."

She smiled, kindness pouring out of her. "Please, Ms. Stack'ouse, call me Abby. We are friends yes? Allies for Miss Adele?" she winked, her green eyes dazzling like emeralds.

"Yes, we are." I answered confidently, "But you need to call me Sookie, if you please." She bowed her head and smiled and I took that for a yes.

"So, what do you have planned for tonight, Abby?" I asked. She seemed excited to share her care plan with me.

"Oh, many t'ings, Miss Sookie. My own grann's people believe in the healing baths. Illness and unrest come as hot and cold and the spirits that plague on your sweet Gran's mind are cold. We must fight them with heat, the healing bath, the hot soup in th' belly." She winked again and I laughed. Safe, Gran was safe here.

"Ok, well then I'll leave you to it", I said. "I shouldn't be long..a few hours maybe...oh before I forget, Gran likes a glass of lemonade before bed." Abby's face shifted for the slightest second to one of concern then back to her pleasant lovely self. Yes I knew that a drink loaded with sugar right before bed time was probably not the best thing for an old lady, but it had become so much a part of her routine that I was scared to take it away.

"I'll just go say goodbye to her and then I'll go." I said and Abby nodded again in approval. I approached Gran gently as she set in the old chair, her head leaned back against a pillow and her eyes closed.

"Gran", I said in just little more than a whisper, "I'm going out for a little bit, but Abby and Andy will be here if you need anything. I won't be gone long."

Gran opened her eyes and reached out to grab my hand, "Sookie, baby, is it time for school already? Did you get a good breakfast?"

"Yeah, Gran, I had a good breakfast." I answered desperately trying to squelch the tears that threatened to spill.

"Good," she responded back, "I hope Jason ate before he left, I think he's probably famished." she said, her tone carrying a note of worry.

"You'll see Jason soon" was the only bit of cold comfort I could muster. It would be at his funeral in two days. I kissed Gran's wrinkled soft cheek and rose. Turning I was suprised to find Abby standing immediately behind me. She reached her hand out and touched my cheek, the warmth of her hand comforting, her eyes hinted with sadness.

"Oh the struggle you carry little one," she tsked at me. "I know where you go tonight. You need not borrow sorrows." She shook her head at me and reached into her large red travel satchel and produced a small velvet bag on a silver chain. She motioned for me to turn around and when I did she slipped the velvet pouch over my head. As I turned around to face her, she straightened my hair over my shoulders and smiled brightly. She unexpectedly kissed my cheek and then leaned in close to whisper into my ear.

Limyè Bondye a antoure nou.  
>Lanmou pou Bondye enfolds nou<br>Pouvwa Bondye a pwoteje nou  
>Prezans Bondye a ap gade sou nou.<br>Kèlkeswa kote mwen menm, Bondye se ...  
>Ak tout se byen.<p>

Darkness had already fallen by the time I was in my car and headed towards Merlottes. After my brief time in Abby's presence I felt more confident, more capable, stronger somehow. As the bumps and turns continued on my way, the nagging doubt would begin to creep back in. I'd simply tamper it back down by turning up the radio and signing along as loudly as I could. By the time I parked my car under the neon orange "Open" sign that hung neatly in the bar window my radio speakers were trembling with overuse. Static from loose and jiggled wires was cutting into the melody. I cut the engine and sat listening to the silence of the Louisana backwoods. Step one; Get to Merlottes, complete. I took and deep breath and exited the car soothing my outfit against my skin as a rose. A surprising amount of thought had gone into this outfit. I didn't want to come off as a fangbanger so even though I had put a few curls in my thick blond hair and applied a coat of mascara and lip gloss over my tinted moisturizer, I'd considered it to be very conservative. No, I wanted my attire to say; "Southern lady who does not cotton to men staring at her breasts or...at her neck". To that end, I had chosen a pair of nice denim jeans and a long grey, brown and black striped sweater that flowed over my hips and a pair of suede boots that I had gotten on sale. Abby's velvet bag nested under the sweater. I pressed my hand to it and tried to remember what it was she had said to me when I was leaving. I didn't know if I had gotten the words right, but the emotion felt the same. When I felt my confidence return it came time for step two: Walk into the bar.

The familair sounds and smells assaulted my senses as I walked in. The tingling of moving glasses, the sounds of patrons all talking over one another, the loud crack of the cue ball striking another ball, the jukebox playing some upbeat country song. It was a welcome sound and I resisted the urge to poke around in the customers minds to see what they thought of my venture out after our families horrible ordeal. Instead I slammed their thoughts shut as best I could and was focused on moving my feet towards a stool at the bar.

"Sookie!", I heard my name bellowed in the sweet southern drawl of Arlene Fowler. Arlene was no stranger to family drama. In the five years that I had worked with her she had seen just as many of her own weddings, each one more garish than the last. Arlene had red hair that simply could not be replicated anywhere in nature despite her insistence that it was natural. She put down her tray full of chicken strips and fries to wrap me up in her embrace, which as usual smelled of hairspray and knock-off perfume. I held my breath to keep from suffocating. Arlene meant well, and despite her appearance, she had always been a good friend to me.

"Hey Arlene," I managed with no breath. When she released me, I continued, "How's everything here?"

"Oh Sookie, " she started, tears forming under her raccoon lined eyes, "you're just so good," she sniffled. "Here you are in the middle of your own personal tragedy and you're worried about everyone else." She openly sobbed and ran towards the back as our boss Sam made his approach. Wiping his hands on the bar towel that was tucked in his front pocket, he turned to watch Arlene run and then back to me, smiling.

"Hey, 'chere, what did you say to Arlene to make her run off so fast?", his tone was light and playful and before I knew it he had swept me up into a big embrace. Sam had hugged me before, it wasn't uncommon. Sam was warm, solid and safe. Hugging him was like hugging Jason. Except Jason never sniffed my hair.

"How are you, Sook? You look good. Is Gran hanging in there?, he fired off his questions.

"I'm ok, Sam," I answered. "Gran's doing ok, I got a nurse to come sit with her. I just thought it would be a good idea to get out and get some fresh air for a little bit", I said positively. "Plus," I added nonchalantly, "I heard I had a new neighbor and it wouldn't be good manners to not come and introduce myself". Sam glared at me. His thoughts came fast, snarled in shades of red and yellow. Without warning he grabbed my arm so tightly that his fingers dug in to my skin. It hurt. Before I could protest he began hauling me back towards his office. When we entered he slammed the door with enough force to splinter the wood before releasing me.

"What the hell is the matter with you Sam Merlotte?, I yelled still rubbing the sore spots on my arm.

"With me? With me?", he asked incredulously, his voice raising with each one, "What the hell is the matter with you Sookie? Leaving your Gran alone with strangers so you can come out here to meet a vampire? Have you lost your mind? Have you even thought about what could happen if they find out what you can do with your mind?"

"As a matter of fact I have thought about it Sam," I spat at him, "I've thought long and hard about it and if it will help Gran, I'll do it." I took a deep breath and he listened, clearly still irritated with me as I explained my last conversation with Jason. He combed his hands through his hair and blew out a long exasperated sigh,

"So, you think it's a coincidence that your brother maybe knew a vampire, then he's dead and a vampire shows up living right across the cemetary from you?" he questioned.

The question stumbled me. No, in truth, I had never considered that. If I was being honest, I hadn't really thought about what a vampire would want with a telepath either, but I wasn't about to let Sam know that. I decided my best chance of success was to dodge both those questions and retaliate with one of my own.

"Sam, how is it you know so much about vampires?", I asked. He looked visibly flusterred. But he too, could play the avoidance game.

"So what's your big plan, Sook? Buy him a drink? Make small talk? Jesus, Sookie you could get yourself killed." he was back to screaming at me.

"Sam Merlotte, you are not my father, my brother or my boyfriend and I will not tolerate your belittling me for trying to help my family. You can either be by my side in this or I'll go to Fangstasia. Alone. And get my answers." I said. It was calm. It was calculating. It was effective. Sam lowered his head in defeat. Whatever he thought about the goings on at the Shreveport bar, it must've been far more dubious than what I had planned tonight.

"Fine Sookie, but you stay at the bar, in my sight at all times, do you hear me?" I nodded my head in compliance. "And for the love of God don't tell him about yourself."

I'd agreed to Sam's plan of attack and we returned to the bar, he on the server side and I on the customer side. An odd arrangement to be sure. Sam's displeasure at my course of action was still obvious and as I politely asked for a gin and tonic to soothe my frazzled nerves, a tense "Coming right up" was all I could get from him. I couldn't understand where all this raw aggression was coming from. Was Sam a secret member of the Fellowship of the Sun? I'd never figured him for that kind of intolerance.

As I relaxed into my drink, I listened in to the crowd. Yep, same thing as always; Jane Bodehouse was thinking about whether or not to order another drink. George Barker who was shooting pool with Jason's best friend Hoyt was thinking if he could just win this next round he'd have enough money to buy his mom that picture of Elvis she'd seen on QVC and Jeremy Pickens wondered if it meant he was gay too if he thought Lafayette was normal Wednesday night at Merlotte's, until it wasn't.

I'd heard the hush fall across the minds of my fellow customers and a slight nod from Sam toward the door let me know that it was time for step three; talk to the vampire. I turned slightly on my stool to face the object of my intentions. I smiled inwardly at how average he looked. Bill Compton, vampire of Bon Temps, looked very much like Steve the vampire accountant I had seen on the VRA commericals. He was of average height and slim build in his polo shirt and khaki pants. His dark hair was neatly trimmed and combed and from my vantage point I could see his eyes were blue. He was handsome, I suppose. There was an aloofness to him, a cool indifference to his surroundings that seperated him from the rest of the bar. If not for that one slight give-away, I'm not sure you could've picked him out of a crowd. He briefly looked my way and made eye contact and a polite smile before turning to speak with Sam behind the bar.

"Good Evening, Sam", he said. His voice carried the familiar homegrown drawl that I was used to. I suppose it's only natural since he was raised here..150 years ago.

"Evenin' Bill, " Sam's voice was still tense, but Mr. Compton seemed unphased by it. "What can I do for ya tonight?" Sam asked.

"I'll need a burger Lafayette, well done, with extra hot sauce and a basket of wedges to go, please", he ordered. A to go order of food? Must be for that woman everyone thought he kept locked in the basement under his 'thrall' as Andy put it. As least he was kind enough to feed her.

"Be about 20 minutes on that." Sam replied.

"No hurry, " the vampire said, "I've got nothing but time.". The sarcasm in his tone did not go unnoticed and as I stifled a laugh, both he and Sam shot sideways glances at me. As Sam grumbled away to put in the order, I found my curiosity getting the better of me. My quick and casual glances in his direction intensified and on more than one occasion I could feel my mouth trying to form the word, 'hello', but the words wouldn't come. As I silently damned myself for my cowardice, I noticed that Mr. Compton began looking back with the same curiosity. I knew Sam wouldn't be helpful in initiating any conversation between us. It was up to me to pull myself up by the boot-straps and jump in. But then help came from an unsuspected source.

My nerves were stretched so tight that I nearly leapt from the bar stool when Sheriff Dearborn touched my shoulder.

"Shit, Bud! Um...I mean, shoot Sheriff Dearborn, you scared me." I managed. Bud only smiled that sympathetic smile and left his hand on my shoulder

"Apologies Sookie," he began. "Wanted to let you know that I got a ballistics report back on the bullet that..." he tapered off..." we recovered. It's the damnedest thing Sookie, it's solid iron..." Bud's mind was taking me to a cold metal table where my brother lay. I broke the physical connection between us and clamped down my mind. Don't you lose it now, Sookie.

"Doc Barton says he's never seen anything like it, figures it was made around the 1860's."

And sometimes, God opens a window. I flung myself through it with careless abandon.

"Ask him," I said motioning toward the dark haired stranger. Bud looked at me with a helpless confusion. "Yeah, go on ask him. Bill Compton, Confederate soldier during the Civil War, just returned back home after all these years. I'll bet he knows a lot about that kind of bullet and I'm sure he'd just love to help out his home town now that he's mainstreaming. " I'd thrown the whole thing out there with more than a little sarcasm; more than I had intended for sure. So I did what I always do and put on my Crazy Sookie smile.

Bill looked at me with his own sense of questions before responding, "Yes, Sherriff, I may indeed be familiar with that sort of ammunition. Perhaps I can come by the department tomorrow evening and be of some assistance." He politely inclined his head in my direction and Bud, satisfied with the offer, left us alone at the bar.

"It seems my reputation proceeds me," he smiled at me and I was surprised at the warmth of it. " It appears you already know all about me and I have yet to make your acquaintance Miss?"

"Stackhouse," I answered, "Sookie Stackhouse".

His brows furrowed and a look of sadness came over his pale face. "Miss Stackhouse, I've heard of your recent loss and wish you my deepest sympathies. I understand your grandmother and brother were both well loved and respected members of the community." Southern charm, Gran would've loved him. He seemed sincere enough. One touch and I would know for sure where I stood with Mr. Compton. I reached to touch the sleeve of his shirt, a gesture of appreciation which he allowed. I closed my eyes and 'listened' in to him. Nothing. No thoughts, no words, no colors. A total silent void. The same type of void I'd felt on the morning Jason died. Had Sam been right? Had there been a vampire stalking the woods behind my house in the pre-dawn hours? Had it been Mr. Compton?

"I can't hear you." I said, shocked, relieved, awed.

"I said," he began.

"No, sshhh", I said as I reached my hand from his sleeve to his face. He recoiled from my hand and growled lowly at me. I heard the distinct pop and I was suddenly faced with the fanged monster I had been warned about. Instead of fear and the visions of my life flashing before my eyes, I found myself strangely fascinated.

"Can you hear me"? A distinctly female voice asked. Taking my hand and slowly bringing it back to rest on my lap. She held onto my hand for longer than I was comfortable with, her eyes closed and squinted, her head full of short auburn curls tilted to the side like she was trying to hear faint music in the distance. While she held my hand in place, Mr Compton had recovered his composure and looked at me apologetically if not somewhat ashamed. I quickly looked around the bar to see if anyone else had noticed our exchange. They hadn't, mercifully. When she finally released me it was with a blissful sigh of contentment.

"Silver," she said calmly. When it became apparent that I didn't understand her comment, she began again. "Silver, one of the only things in nature that can repel and harm vampires. Your bracelet is made of silver."

I let my head fall into my hand. Sookie Stackhouse. You are an ass. I thought to myself. "Mr. Compton, I'm so sorry, I didn't know." It was a lie, but he nodded his head in acceptance anyway. During one of my many forays into the internet researching vampires I had discovered that silver was a potent enemy. Theory held that even a tiny bit could restrain them, burn them. I had added the bracelet to my wardrobe as means for protection. But in my excitement over not hearing the vampire's thoughts, the need for protection completely slipped my mind. A careless mistake that could've cost me everything. It was time to renew my game-face. I turned to look at the woman who had come to both of our rescue. She had asked me if I could hear her and boy could I. She was a very loud broadcaster but only one word stood out.

"Revelare"

Over and over the same word played through her thoughts. I had no idea what it meant. I continued staring at her until I felt Abby's velvet pouch begin to move against my chest. Instinctively I rested my hand across it and the woman's eyebrows arched surprised. With minimal hesitation I reached inside my sweater neck and produced the bag for her appraisal. She reached for it, fingering it lightly as it hung from it's silver chain.

"A gris-gris," she said plainly. She looked back toward Mr. Compton with a sort of amusement on her face. "Where did you get this?"

I stuttered, "My Gran's nurse gave it to me."

"I should like to meet this nurse," she replied her voice flat, cold.

"Amelia," Mr. Compton interrupted smiling at the woman beside me. She was petite, pretty in a pixie sort of way. Her face wore a spattering of freckles and her hazel eyes danced as she looked at him, "I thought you decided to stay in tonight?"

"Oh you know me," she laughed her entire demeanor changing instantly, "Spontaneous is my middle name". I could believe that from the spritely way she carried herself. He smiled back at her, his face wearing a look of adoration for the young woman, "Besides, these burgers are so good that I couldn;t bear the thought of it going cold on the way home."

"In that case, I'd like you to meet my new friend, Sookie Stackhouse. Sookie, this is Amelia Broadway, my mate", he said proudly.

"Stackhouse?" Amelia questioned. "Oh no, you poor thing. Bill told me all about it earlier. I'm so sorry. If there's anything we can do, you'll let us know, right? Here I am harassing you after all you've been through? Can you forgive me?" Before I could agree she had wrapped her arms around me and held me close with another contented sigh. Amelia was obviously a very affectionate person and there was a small part of me that found it endearing. Despite my earlier reservations I began to wonder if I really could be friends with both Amelia and Mr. Compton. Before I could finish my musings Sam returned with the to go order keeping a steady eye on both the vampire and the young lady at his side.

"Great, I am starving," Amelia explained. "Mr Merlotte, could I trouble you for a diet coke, I'm just going to go ahead and eat here while we chat with our new friend Sookie. Bill get a drink for yourself, Mr. Merlotte, do you by chance have True Blood?" Sam was never one to be rude to customers but I could tell he felt severely put upon by the synthetic blood request. He popped the top on the bottle and sent it deftly sailing across the bar to Mr. Compton, cold.

"Sam you could at least heat..." he turned and walked away defiantly. My eyes followed helplessly.

"So, what are you exactly Sookie Stackhouse?" I heard Amelia ask.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean", I lied. Amelia's response was a fit of giggles that was contagious and soon I was giggling with her, "What's so funny?," I asked.

"Sookie, sweetie, I didn't ask out loud."

Some translations

_bote ti kras mwen-_ "My little beauty"

_Limyè Bondye a antoure nou.  
>Lanmou pou Bondye enfolds nou<br>Pouvwa Bondye a pwoteje nou  
>Prezans Bondye a ap gade sou nou.<br>Kèlkeswa kote mwen menm, Bondye se ...  
>Ak tout se byen. <em>

"The light of God surrounds us

The light of God enfolds us

The power of God protects us

The presence of God watches over us.

Wherever I am, God is...

And all is well"

_Revelare -_ Reveal.

This chapter's musical stylings are brought to you by Katie Arminger- Leaving Home.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Special thanks to reviewer ashmo2000 for one of the funniest reviews. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. I had a ball writing it!

Chapter 4

Of Wolf and Man

I'd had the glass of gin and tonic nearly to my lips, prepared to take the last swallow and feeling more relaxed in my own skin that perhaps I'd ever had, when the revelation of my dirty little secret rang as loud and clear as church bells on Sunday morning. The immediate sense of camaraderie I'd felt was gone, in it's place were the hard stares of suspicion and doubt. I felt the glass trembling in my hands and then watched it tumble from my grasp and shatter against the tile floor. Flaming. Bag. Of. Crap! This was not going well at all. Amelia and Mr. Compton continued their curious stares in my direction. For the first time ever, I silently prayed that someone would see me as nothing more than functionally insane; a simple po'dunk girl from a back water town that was too dumb to know whether she had found a rope or lost her horse. I was beginning to feel too much like that girl, and I was so very tired of it. I decided to rally all my courage. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and then Sam's earlier warning rang in my ears;

_"Do you have any idea what a vampire would do to you if they found out you could read minds?"_

I'd guessed by the implication that "help me" was not an option on the table. Time seemed to stop, in the background I could hear Hoyt Fortenberry wonder if I'd had too much to drink. It was a little demeaning considering that Hoyt knew full well I could match him shot for shot, and certainly was not true, but all things considered, I went with it.

"Whoops", I laughed, mimicking the way I'd seen Jane Bodehouse do it when she had done some clumsy thing to humiliate herself in front of God and everybody, "Somebody better cut me off".

My nervous laughter did little to erase the knowing doubt in Amelia's eyes. She knew I was avoiding her questions and more to the point knew I was avoiding her discovery of my telepathy. Mr Compton's face wore a look of genuine concern for my well being. I wanted to laugh. He'd seemed so nice, but now my mind was forced to wonder if I'd ever had any concern for the cow before it became _my _dinner. The answer was no, not really. Sure I wanted to make sure that all the nice cows were happy in their big fields. But in the end, they were food. And the startling revelation that so was I could not be ignored. I searched for Sam, my would be savior, behind the bar and as promised he was close by in case I got myself into trouble. I should find out if he's telepathic, maybe psychic.

"Hey there, lightweight", he said to me seeing the worry in my eyes. His tone was jovial, teasing. It was a far cry from when he had all but thrown a bottle of True Blood at Mr. Compton and I was thankful for it. "Maybe we should call it a night?", he asked.

A surprising voice interjected on my behalf, "Yes, Ms. Stackhouse," Mr. Compton said, "It has been a very trying few days for you. You must be exhausted. It would be our privilege if you would allow Amelia and I to see you home safe."

Before I could politely decline or make some arbitrary excuse, Sam's spoke again, "Nah, thanks Mr. Compton. I'd planned on driving Sookie home tonight anyway. She was leaving her car here tonight and I was gonna change the oil in the morning. Plus it gives me a chance to check in on Mrs. Stackhouse, ain't that right, 'chere?" Well that was shocking. Sam was a terrible liar and I almost laughed out loud at how quickly he had come up with his ruse. I kept what was left of my game face intact and managed a single "Yep".

"Very well," Mr. Compton said solemnly, It was clear he was unphased by the lie and by the brand new Sam Merlotte. "Miss Stackhouse, it was a pleasure meeting you. If Amelia and I can ever be of assistance, please do not hesitate to ask." As they stood to leave, Amelia once again took hold of my hand, pressing into it a piece of paper.

"It's my phone number", she said, looking at Sam and then back to me whispering, "If you ever want to talk...about girl stuff or whatever...give me a call". I smiled and thanked her and with that they were gone and so were my chances of helping Gran. I stuffed the paper into my pocket. Perhaps I'd pull it out twenty years from now and tell my own grandkids about how I once had drinks with a vampire.

"You ok, Sook?", Sam asked.

I swallowed hard. I assured Sam I was fine although he believed it about as much as Mr. Compton believed the convienent oil change story. I offered to give the vampire and his lady friend a ten minute head start and then I would drive myself home to Hummingbird Lane.

"Nope.", Sam said with a touch of finality. "That's one part of the story that was an absolute fact, Sookie. I intend to make sure you get home alright tonight. I've got some things to do in the back but I'll leave Lafayette to close up. Shouldn't be more than hour."

And so, I waited, stuck to the bar stool like a good little Sookie. As far as crowds go, the one at Merlotte's had been a thin one to begin with being a week night. The herd slowly drifted away until it was just good ol' Jane and myself left. A quick peek inside her head revealed that she was worried about how she was getting home that night. Her grown children had long grown tired of hauling their mama out of a bar nightly. I decided to call her a cab. It was the least I could do; one pathetic soul to another. I dug into my front pocket to make sure I had enough cash for the fare when Amelia's note found it's way into my hand.

"_Please don't be afraid"_, it read, "_I CAN help you_" - A.

"No, YOU can't", I said to myself. The adrenaline of the moment was starting to wear off and I found myself hanging my head into my hands. Just then a warm large hand feel soothingly on my back, rubbing circles across my shoulder blades the way a mother would soothe a child. The way Gran used to soothe me just a short time ago it seemed. I turned my eyes to the source of the unexpected comfort to discover Layfayette. He leaned down next to me, one elbow on the bar supporting most of his weight.

"When sorrows come, they come not as single spies, Sook," he paused moving a wayward strand of her from my face, "they come as a whole bunch of fucked upedness. How you doin', baby girl?"

I could only shake my head in his direction, "I've really messed up Layfayette, I mean really messed up." He looked at me confused, "That vampire and his girlfriend know I can read minds.", I whispered.

"So?" he said so suddenly that it nearly through me off balance, "Yeah, I said it. So?" Before I could fill him in on all the horrors that Sam had semi-warned me about he continued with his empassioned speech. "Sookie, what you can do? That's special. You's special and powerful. You got to love all the Lord God done blessed you with, even that part that makes you and e'rybody else uncomfortable sometimes. Peoples need to be uncomfortable sometimes. Look at me," he said straighening himself up and bending his head gently from side to side as if fluffling an imaginary mane of luxurious hair. "I am a strong, gay, black man in a town where some folks is born with a noose over they cribs. I make peoples uncomfortable as hell.", he laughed. "You could take a lesson from LaLa, instead of worrying about people finding out what you can do, you need to be thinking, 'I wish a muthafucka would find out'. You could be all like, 'I gots you bitches, I knows what you been up to'." He motioned with two fingers towards his eyes and back to mine. I laughed, full and loud. I laughed until tears formed in my eyes from his silliness. It felt wonderful.

I remembered a time in the not so distance past that Lafayette got his wish. Some dumb ol' redneck once thought it would be a good idea to try to pick a fight with him. I guess he thought that Lafayette wasn't man enough to take care of his own business. Sam, Jason and Hoyt had momentarily thought the same thing that night. Two black eyes, a few broken ribs and one knocked out redneck later, all involved knew that Lafayette was not a man to be messed with. He sat at the corner booth as the paramedics loaded his would be opponent on to the stretcher applying pink lip gloss. As the man started to arouse, Layfayette walked over and delivered a big kiss right on the man's forehead. He then stood there, stroking the man's blood caked hair and said, '_Now when you wake up big man, you run on home and tell your daddy that you got your ass whooped by a faggot."_ I thought it was so brave.

His tone fell serious, "When you last eat something, Sook?" he questioned.

"Around lunch? Maxine brought over her macaroni salad."

"And before that?" he asked. In truth I couldn't remember. "Oh lord, you been trying to have the strength to fight vampires AND Sam Merlotte on Maxine Fortenberry's dry ass, onion infested, nasty macroni salad?" he feigned mock horror. "You sit right there, chile' I'm gonna fix you right up."

I finished every last bite of the food that Lafayette served me. Bourbon glazed pork chops and garlic potatoes, with each bite more delicious than the last. I was stuffing the last fork full into my mouth, savoring the subtle flavors and texture when Sam approached to take me home. I quickly gathered my things and waved goodbye to Layfayette mouthing "Thank you" as I passed him by. His response was the beginning chorus of 'This Little Light of Mine', as we exited.

Sam and I walked to his truck in silence. The smell of his truck familiar and comforting, an odd combination of oil and gasoline. The cold vinyl seats creaked under my wieght and the throaty engine roared to life after just a few turns of the key. As we rambled down the gravel road that led towards home, Sam would half whistle, half sing to whatever song was playing on the radio. It was a nervous habit that he had always had and it was intensified tonight. I decided to take Layfayette's advice.

"What's got you so anxious Sam? ",I asked

"What? I'm not..." he began. Before he could finish, I tapped the side of my temple and shook my head disapprovingly.

" I may not be able to clearly read you Sam, but when I look, I see gray and yellow", I'd said confidently.

"Colors? You see my colors instead of thoughts?" He asked, almost as if he didn't believe me. "Well what colors mean what?"

"Well, for starters, gray and yellow mean fear and uncertainity. Red is anger, pale green is calm and contentment, blue is excited..."

"Jesus, Sookie," he sighed, "That's a little unnerving." I shrugged my shoulders, "People need to be uncomfortable sometimes. So I'll ask again, what's got you so anxious?" My God, this felt good. I did feel a little powerful. Even the folks that knew explicitly about my little mind ability didn't talk about it openly. And certainly no one had ever asked me how it worked, or what I saw or what it felt like.

Sam slowly pulled the truck off the side of the road and cut the engine, this time of night, no one could be expected to drive by. He unbuckled his seat belt and turned to face me. Taking a deep breath, he began. "Sookie if something ever happened to you, I'd never forgive myself." I started to interrupt him, tell him that I would be ok. That he was a great boss and a really good friend but that he wasn't responsisble for me, but he pressed on.

"Sookie I know you think that I'm overreacting and maybe you're right, but I don't think it's a coincidence that a vampire shows up in town the same day that your brother was murdered." I tried to cut him off, but he simply held up his hands in surrunder and pleaded with me to let him finish. "I know Jason had been driving over to Shreveport a lot, now I don't pretend to know what business he had there, but maybe I should've made it my business." He said, his head turned and his eyes stared out the windshield, his fingers in a white knuckled grip on the worn steering wheel. The silence between us was awkward and unsettling. What did Sam know about my brother that I didn't. The mention of Shreveport could really only mean one thing considering the context of our conversation. Fangtasia. I knew that Jason had gone, it wasn't a surprise. If everything I had heard about the sexual nature of things that occured there and anything I'd ever heard about my brother was true; well then I certainly knew what his business was in Shreveport. A horrible thought came into my mind. Had Jason tipped a vampire off to my ability? I nervously fidgeted with my purse in my lap and tuned into Sam. His thoughts were a literal rainbow of colors. Gray, gave way to yellow, before turning to a brilliant orange red and then the red faded to a faint pink. Pink was new, pink was soft and alive and pink felt strangely like hope. After what seemed like hours passed and Sam spoke again.

"I heard your conversation with Lafayette, Sook, about you being special. It's true. You have no idea how special you are." he said softenly. I held my breath. "Get out of the truck Sookie, please." he asked. I watched as he threw open the drivers door and slammed it shut behind him. The resounding metal clang that followed caused me to jump. I waited as Sam paced back and forth on his side of the truck. Oh, God, I thought. My mind flashed back to another conversation with Layfayette, the one were told me that Sam often watched me with more than a supervisory glance. I hadn't believed it at the time, and then it occured to me to think of all the other things I didn't believe prior to this night. But now here we were in the middle of a deserted road with talk about how 'special' I was. I moaned to myself. I could almost hear a studio announcer somewhere in the distance whispering, _'we've replaced Sookie's life with a cheesy Lifetime Movie, let's see if she notices_.' A bang on the truck bed, let me know that with or without my consent, the cameras were rolling. I took a deep breath and got out of the truck.

"Sam, you don't have to do this." I said from my position at the passenger side of the truck bed. "It's late, and I'm tired and I don't want to say anything or do anything that I might regret tomorrow." The words had fallen out of my mouth before I'd realized it. I stared at Sam across the truck and to my surprise, I didn't feel the bitter sting of rejection coming back from him. There was frustration and amusement and some hesitation. I watched as Sam began unbuttoning his blue flannel shirt. His fingers tugging at the buttons furiously before ripping the shirt away from his shoulders and revealing his muscled chest and arms. He stared at me with his eyes dancing in amusement as I stared back slackjawed. His hands dropped below my line of sight and I could hear the familair sound of a belt buckle being undone as he worked to remove his jeans.

"Sam!" I yelled, "What on earth are you doing?".

"You need to see this, Sookie." was his calm reply.

"No. No. No, I don't Sam," my heart was pounding, was this really happening? "Please let's just get back in the truck and you can take me home and we can forget.." my panicked dialogue was cut short by the oddest sound. There was a crackle in the air. The kind of sizzle that you hear when someone lights a cigarette in a quiet room. The air around his body shimmered and in the blinking of an eye, Sam Merlotte disappeared.

"SAM!" I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow me. If this was some sort of practical joke, it was not funny and I should know, I have a great sense of humor. I rushed around to the other side of the truck and found Sam's discarded clothing laying on the cold pavement. I scooped them up and moved to hop in the vehicle and speed away into the night. If Sam thought it was cute to scare me half to death after every thing I'd been through tonight, I'd see how funny he thought walking home in the nude on a crisp February evening could be. As I reached for the ignition and the door simultaneously, the sound of a whimper caught my ears. I looked down to see the one of the biggest dogs I have ever seen. It's white head was massive, it looked more like a polar bear than a dog. "Nice puppy," I said to the beast and turned the engine over. "I gotta go now..good boy..or girl...stay."

The giant dog raised up on it's hind legs rendering it almost taller than the truck. Its enormous paws resting in the window as if holding the truck in place. I turned to shoo the dog away when the air sizzled and crackled once more and right before my eyes the great white dog was gone and in his place was a very naked Sam Merlotte.

"Wha..." was the only unintelligible sound I could coherse my mouth to make.

"Think I could get my clothes? It's a might chilly out here" Sam asked in a mocking tone. I watched, mouth dropped open, perfect for catching flies as Gran used to say. When Sam had himself good and dressed he walked toward the back of the truck and dropped the tailgate. The next sound I heard was the familiar pop of a can tab and the refreshed sigh that comes after long swallow of a cold drink. I tiptoed out of the truck and made my way back to the tailgate. Sam never turned to look at me, instead he waited patiently for me to join him as he grabbed another two beers from a cooler. I hopped up on the tailgate with him as he handed me the ice cold can. We sat side by side in silence for a good long while.

So, you..um..?" I tried to speak.

"Shape shifter." He said as matter of factly as if he were telling me that 2 + 2 = 4. He raised the can to his lips and took a long drink before speaking again, always staring out into the night and never looking at me, "I can shift into anything, any living animal, as long as I can see it."

"You're like a werewolf", I gasped excitedly. Sam laughed, "No, Sookie they can only shift into wolves, and they have to shift on the full moon. They got no choice in it. There are other were-animals too, same rules apply."

Oh my stars, werewolves were real too? I'd found that once my initial shock had faded, I was giddy with excitement. "Are you friends with werewolves and other were things? Are there other shifters like you?" My questions were rapid fire and Sam laughed his response.

"My mom is a shifter, my sister is too and no, I'm not real friendly with the wolves. There's a few over in Jackson that are alright, but most of 'em would rather not associate with a true shifter," he shrugged, "It's a heirarchy thing. An Alpha thing. I try not to pay it no attention"

"So what about the dog?" I asked.

"Sarge, Great Pyrenees. Best damn dog I ever had," he said, "One time, I was out in the field tending to the goats my dad raised when a wolf came upon one of the kids and the nanny. Ol' Sarge charged that wolf like it was nothing, grabbed that mangy wolf by the neck and shook her like a rag doll."

"So you purposefully shift into a dog that could kill a wolf if needed?" I asked, it was a little shocking.

"Yep, Sookie, sometimes people need to be uncomfortable.", he said smiling.

We sat on the back of that tailgate for what seemed like hours while Sam told me all about what it meant to be a shifter. He told me stories about his finding out about himself and about how he had a once tried to go without shifting for a whole year because he didn't want it to be a part of him. In the end he had decided that the shifter was as much a part of him as bones. It wouldn't be right to deny it. He told me all about how he'd tried for so long to keep it secret and the longer he tried, the harder it was. He said a time would be coming when the weres and shifters would make themselves known too. He figured it would go a lot easier on them than it had for vampires. After all, weres and shifters weren't dead and aside from the occasional rabbit, no one got hurt.

"So what about me then Sam? Will other telepaths make themselves known too?" I asked. For a brief moment I thought it would be nice to be surrounded my people like me. Sam quickly dashed my dreams.

"I couldn't say Sookie, I've never met anyone else who can do what you can.", he replied with a sorrowful tone. "There are stories of course, like Bigfoot and The Loch Ness monster, which aren't real by the way," he nudged my shoulder with his, smiling, "but I don't know if they're true."

"Is that how you know so much about vampires?" I asked.

It was Sam's turn to take a deep breath, "Sookie, no one knows 'so much' about vampires. They guard their secrets jealously. You spend too much time trying to learn them and you either end up one of them or dead."

"Well, where did they come from? Have there always been vampires? Have there always been werewolves and shifters?" My curiosity was on overdrive.

Sam laughed, "You just won't give up will you?"

I pulled my back up straight and held my head high, "Nope, I won't, Sam Merlotte. You know me better than that."

He sighed again, reluctancy filling him, "Look, all I know is that they've been around forever. There's this story", he began turning towards me for the first time in our conversation, " The spirits that created vampires, and weres and shifters have always been around. From what I understand they're nature spirits. And nature," he paused, "requires a balance. Thousands of years ago, something or someone upset the balance and the spirit of death bound itself to a human creating what we know as a vampire."

He stopped his story and I sat very still mulling the whole fantastic tale over in my mind.

"So, what do they want, exactly Sam? Do you believe all this 'mainstreaming' business?" I asked.

" I couldn't say Sookie, I'm sure some really do want that, and I'm sure more really want us to believe they do", he said. I was starting to get a pretty clear picture on how a telepath would be quite handy to a vampire. It was not a comforting vision.

"The best defense is a good offence, wouldn't you say, Sam?" I said with as much confidence as I could muster.

He nodded sheepishly, "I've heard that a time or two."

It was close to an hour later when Sam dropped me off at the farmhouse. He sat in the driveway until I was safely on the porch with my hand on the door knob before waving and turning to head home himself. I stood there in the darkness and reached out my mind to find Gran's, she was sleeping. I could hear the quiet hum of her mental signature. I reached out again to find Abby, in the living room and peaceful as well. It was as if she too had fallen asleep. I cast out my mental nets once more towards the woods and listened for the tell tale nothing that I had learned meant vampire and got real live nothing in return.

I thought about the void that had been present the morning Jason had died. It was there and gone so quickly. Dawn had becoming hard and fast when I picked up on it. Where could it have gone so quickly to avoid the sun?

"Sonofabitch", I'd said outloud and before I could register what I was doing, I was off. Running wildly through the woods, grabbing onto tree limbs and jumping through bramblewood briars. I slowed on the paved pathways of the Bon Temps cemetary and as I passed the gigantic hole in the earth where my brother would lay my anger intensified and my speed renewed. I thought only of the silver at my wrists and of the silver around my neck as I tore through the countryside. Hot tears were blurring my vision and as I made it to the clearing that was the Vampire Bill Comptons driveway, I fell none too gracefully onto the gravel feeling it digging into the flesh at my knees, elbows and hands. In a blur he was in the driveway with me, bending to assist me to my feet,

"Miss Stackhouse, are you hurt?" He asked, his hand reaching out for mine. I pounced as quickly as I could bringing the silver to his pale neck and hearing the satisfying sizzle of flesh that accompanied it. His fangs shot out and he snarled at me, "Sookie what..."

"Tell me, " I screamed pushing my weight into him "Tell me what you were doing at my house the morning Jason was killed."

"Of Wolf and Man"- Metallica \m/


End file.
